


Chinese Whispers

by Aviss



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-25 03:23:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is getting married. Eames doesn't take the news too well. He should have learned not to listen to rumours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chinese Whispers

Chinese Whispers

 

Arthur is getting married.

Eames is the last one to hear about it, and when he does it takes a whole minute for his brain to process the words. Arthur. Married. He knows they have been said in English, though it could have been Aramaic for all the sense they make to him. He stares at his mobile as if it's about to turn and bite him, feeling a bit as if it already has.

"Eames?" Marina's voice on the other side of the line sounds faint and very far away, a note of concern entering her tone. "Are you there, Eames?"

That snaps him out of it. "Yes."

"So, do you want me to find another point man for the job?" she says, all business like. Eames likes Marina; she's fun and pretty in a plump sort of way, and can create entire cities where one would never know, or care, that there is no way out. She's also one of the biggest gossips in the dream-sharing community.

"No. I'll call you, there's something I need to do first."

He doesn't listen to whatever protests she might have, just finishes the conversation and dials Arthur's number. He gets no response, the phone disconnected or out of range. He tries the other one he knows Arthur keeps when he's in the US, and gets the same results. For a minute, Eames stares blankly at his mobile's screen, thinking about what to do next. He doesn't want to contact the Cobbs, not yet. If what Marina said is the truth, then he wants to hear it straight from Arthur's mouth. Eames thinks he deserves at least that much.

He tries both numbers a few more times, until he's convinced there's not going to be an answer. Then, Eames gets in touch with the client to inform her that something personal has come up and she can either accept a change of schedule or hire another team. She's not happy with this, and Eames knows it's not his most professional moment, but he doesn't care.

The conversation with Marina is still echoing in his head.

So, who's going to be on point?"

"I'll get in touch with Arthur; see if he's free for this one."

"I doubt it, what with getting married in two days and all."

"What?"

"Yes. I know, surprising. And I was so sure he swung the other way. I heard it from Carleen, who heard it from Jackson, who knows that crazy German that worked with you last year. Apparently he ran into Arthur and his fiancée when they were picking up the wedding dress, and she said the happy event is this Saturday.

Eames has the plane tickets booked and his things packed and ready to go in and hour. He doesn’t stop to think about it until he's boarded the plane, how is it possible that he hasn't heard anything at all about this. He didn't say anything to Marina then, but he knows exactly which way Arthur swings. Has known for the past three years they have been in a sort of relationship. They have never defined it, have never put a name on that something that makes them track each other all over the globe, work together every time they have the chance, and spend as much time as they can afford learning ways of making the other writhe and beg.

If forced, Eames would have said they are friends. The special kind of friends who spend as much time naked as they do clothed when they are together, but friends at the end of the day. However, he would have learned of this from Arthur if that were the case. And it's that what makes him feels as if he's been blindsided.

Oh, and that Arthur is getting bloody married.

Truth be told, Eames hasn't heard anything from Arthur in the past two months, since the job they pulled in Dublin and the unholy mess that followed Eames from there. He has been lying low all that time, only resurfacing now that the danger is past. And yes, it might be true that they didn't part ways in the best of terms, Eames can still remember Arthur's angry face when he told him to go to ground And don't you fucking dare show your face for at least a month, Mr. Eames. I'll take care of it and find you when it's safe for you to reappear. And Arthur had been as good as his word, the news of the demise of his problem had reached Eames loud a clear a few days ago. He had waited for Arthur himself to follow them shortly, only to be disappointed.

Now Eames knows the reason.

…

The small town in Iowa is as picturesque as Arthur's childhood tales have always led Eames to believe. He's not in the mood to properly appreciate it, though. He's tired, jet lagged and feeling cranky and dirty. And the two hour delay of his connection flight has not improved Eames mood one bit. He's on a tight schedule, the sun approaching its zenith on a lovely Saturday afternoon. Eames has no idea if the wedding is in the afternoon of the evening, and still has to find the place where it's held.

He doesn't know what he's going to do once he's there. He's not been invited, and some part of him cringes at the thought of crashing a wedding. Eames' can picture his mother's face pinched in disapproval at the idea.

He drives around the town slowly, his eyes scanning the area and stopping every time he sees something resembling a church. He has the feeling the wedding is going to be held in one, as much as Arthur has always claimed to be an agnostic. Most people who do, they still bow to family pressure and get a religious wedding.

The first church is a bust, the service being held inside sparsely attended, Eames' face heats up in embarrassment when all eyes turn to him. He retreats quickly, climbing into the car and driving away.

Why in seven hells is he doing this? Arthur and he have never made any promises, never claimed to be doing anything more than having a bit of fun together. They have even dated some other people, right at the beginning of their non-relationship. It got boring pretty quickly for Eames, who couldn't help but compare them to Arthur and find them wanting, but they have never promised to be exclusive. Why, then, the idea of Arthur getting married without his knowledge makes his gut clench and an uncomfortable feeling to take up residence in his chest?

It's the fact that Arthur didn't tell him. It has to be that.

Any other reason--well, he'd rather not think there can be another reason.

…

It takes Eames the better part of an hour and three other churches before he finds the right one, and the moment he arrives he gets the answer to two questions.

Yes, the wedding was in the afternoon. And it's over.

Eames enters the church just in time to see Arthur leaning forward to kiss the bride. Arthur looks stunning, his thin frame hugged by a perfectly fitting grey tuxedo, his hair slicked back and an expression of adoration on his face as he presses his lips briefly against the bride's, the kiss oddly chaste considering the circumstances. She also looks perfect, as good a match for him as if they were made for each other. She's gorgeous; dark hair pulled back in a complicated hairstyle, lovely defined features, and the same look of love on her face. They hug tightly, as if afraid to let go, several people surrounding them and clapping them happily on the back.

Eames closes his eyes and steps into the shadows, his entrance completely unnoticed in the middle of all the happy voices and tearful eyes.

He has his other answer; he knows why he had to hurry here. What he has no idea is what he's going to do with that knowledge now. He leans against the wall, hitting his head softly on the stones, and wonders if the bone-deep weariness he's feeling now can be blamed on the trip. He knows there truth, though. Jet-lagged he might be, but what he's feeling is closer to heartbreak, and there is nothing but his own stupidity to blame for it.

There is nothing he can do now. He should leave, go back to Berlin and see if the job is still waiting for him. He's going to need a new point man, but Arthur is not the only one in the business. He's the best, yes. But not the only one.

He's still trying to convince his tired body to move from that spot when the ceremony is truly over, the people inside the church filing out, the priest leaving through a door in the back. This is the perfect moment for him to leave, in the middle of the crowd before anyone notices he's there. Instead, Eames pushes away from the wall, striding towards the altar where the newlyweds are surrounded by a group of their closest and dearest, still clinging to each other.

He should be leaving, but he's weary and hurt and suddenly feeling very angry. Two months ago he had Arthur under him, opening to his touch and melting against his body, and as far as he knows, this kind of wedding takes a bit longer than that to prepare. He feels cheated and stupid, and can't disappear again and pretend nothing has changed the next time he sees Arthur. Direct confrontation is more his style, anyway.

"I believe congratulations are in order, darling," Eames says when he's close enough to the group to be noticed.

The reaction is immediate; Arthur stiffens and turns to look at him, his face a mask of incredulity. "Eames? What--"

"I heard about the happy day, and you know me, I can't resist a party," Eames replies cheerfully, as if it's nothing out of the ordinary for him to be here uninvited. Arthur is clearly not fooled, not is anyone else if the deafening silence that falls after Eames' words is any indication, all eyes converging in the two of them.

Arthur closes his eyes slowly, taking a deep breath, and when he opens them he turns to look at the bride. "El, can you--"

She looks from Arthur to Eames a confused frown on her pretty face. "Of course. The reception begins in an hour, Arthur. Take your time." She goes to one of the men and links her arm with his, walking out of the church. The rest of the group follows them.

Still not looking at him, Arthur turns and heads to one of the side doors, leaving Eames no choice but to go after him. The moment they are outside, Arthur rounds on him, his posture tense, and a fearsome scowl on his face. "What the hell are you doing here, Eames?"

"I'm afraid I missed the ceremony, Arthur. My invitation must have been lost in the post and it took me a while to find the place," Eames says, ignoring Arthur's question.

"Your invitation?" There is nothing left of the fondness and love he had seen in Arthur's face before, his expression hardening by degrees. "Why would you-"

"I thought we were friends, darling. I expected more from you." A note of bitterness enters Eames's voice, and he crosses his arms over his chest, annoyed at himself for letting it show. "You should have told me, I'd rather I'd heard from you than Marina."

"Eames, I have no idea of what you're talking about."

"The wedding?" Eames says, stressing every letter in a way he knows drives Arthur insane. "The one you haven't said a word to me." It has the desired effect, Arthur narrows his eyes at him and clenches his fists.

"I don't see how it's any of your business, and I don't see why you had to come crash it the moment you heard." Arthur retorts hotly, taking a step toward Eames.

He stands his ground, forcing his body not to react at Arthur proximity. He's always found it very appealing when Arthur is angry, the way his eyes flash with barely contained violence. And today Arthur is looking very annoyed, and incredibly good in that tuxedo.

"Considering what we were doing the last time I saw you, I think it is."

"Eames, just because you and I are together," Arthur says through clenched teeth, and Eames' heart skips a beat hearing Arthur admit to that, especially in the present tense. He's so shocked he almost misses the rest of Arthur's words. "That doesn't mean I have to take you my sister's wedding. Or that I want you anywhere near it, especially when half of the guest list is the FBI. Are you insane? What if any of them recognizes you?"

The world grounds to a stop for a second and suddenly Eames is feeling very foolish. He remembers his conversation with Marina again, how she said she had heard it from someone who heard it from someone else. She never mentioned Arthur saying he was getting married. This is precisely the reason he says never to listen to rumours. "Your sister?"

"Who did you think was--Eames, you idiot!" Arthur says, advancing on Eames until he has him pressed against the wall. "What in the past three years have made you think I could possibly be getting married in a church? In case you haven't noticed, they are not too keen in same sex marriages around here." The words come out in an angry hiss, almost against Eames face.

That's the moment Eames' control snaps, before Arthur can take a step back he leans forward, his hands coming up to grab Arthur's face, and crashes their mouths together. The kiss is harsh and needy, two months of separation and the stress of the past two days getting the best of Eames. He parts Arthur's lips with his tongue and pushes immediately inside, a tiny moan crawling up his throat at the perfect way they fit together. Arthur is still annoyed at Eames, it seems, as he struggles for a couple of seconds before giving up and melting into the kiss, his hands grabbing the front of his shirt tightly.

They stay like that for what it feels like an eternity, until they hear someone clearing his throat loudly. Arthur moves away from Eames as if he is on fire, his face flushed. The priest is looking at them from a few feet distance, a blank expression on his face.

"Excuse me, but I think there are more appropriate places for you to be doing that," he says primly, a note of disapproval in his voice.

Arthur closes his eyes and Eames has to bite back a chuckle at his mortified expression. "I apologize," Arthur says stiffly. "We're leaving now." He practically drags Eames away from the church, where most of the wedding's guests are still chatting in groups, and into an empty alley two streets down. "Don't think," he says, pressing Eames against the wall and kissing him again, "that this conversation is over."

Eames knows it isn't, and that it's going to be quite an embarrassing one. He doesn't care. "Of course not, darling."

"Now," Arthur disentangles himself from Eames, smoothing the wrinkles left by their activities on his tuxedo. "I have to get back to the party, and you are still not invited." He walks out of the alley and turns to look at him one more time. "Find yourself a hotel and get some rest, Mr. Eames. You look awful."

Eames watches him leave, following him a couple of minutes later.

He'll find a hotel and rest for a bit, and after that he has a party to attend.

That bit about still not being invited is as good as an invitation for him, isn't it?

…


End file.
